X-Men: White Wedding (Patreon)

Everything was perfect as Jean walked down the aisle. Scott was waiting for her at the altar, looking so handsome in his elegant tuxedo. She herself looked gorgeous in her wedding dress. And all morning, she’d felt perfectly ready. Excited to hear Scott proclaim, once and for all, his eternal devotion to her. And then their wedding night, when they would be united for the first time as man and wife.

Her mind wandered to that as she moved in mincing precision with the droning keystrokes of the wedding march. Jean found herself thinking of Scott and the massive cock that was about to become hers for all time. All day, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking of him. Now, close to both him and the culmination of their courtship, her thoughts took on an undeniable eroticism.

She’d been so busy this last hectic week of their engagement that there’d been ironically no time for them to be together. She’d spent the entire week going unloved, as if to save up all her lust for their honeymoon.

She tried to focus on the here and now, on Scott clothed instead of naked, on their wedding vows instead of the moans and gasps they made as they coupled. But she could only think of his chiseled musculature. About the erection he could summon from the flaccid mass in his trousers. Her pussy began to heat, catching the hint of lust she knew was in Scott’s hidden eyes. Like the burning flame under a skillet, it made her hot. She had to do something about it!

She was all hot, all sweaty. Her dress felt too small for her—it was too small for her. Her breasts were nearly spilling out of it, bigger, heaving fully, burning up! Telling herself it was just to cool down, Jean pulled her neckline down under her increasing cleavage. She tried to relax and keep going, even with her jostling breasts out in the open, but she was too aware of her sensitive slit rubbing against her panties with every step.

What was worse, her veil kept dragging over her bare nipples. They hardened even more, becoming more sensitive than ever against the material that ghosted over them. Goosebumps broke out all over the nervy bride’s body. Her breasts had never felt like this before! There was so much of them and every inch was so sensitive! She’d never been poorly endowed, but right now her breasts protruded in front of her like two ripe melons!

And with them so big and tender, unable to be contained in her tight wedding dress, how could she not think of what it would feel like to have Scott running his hands over their pregnant fullness, his fingers sampling how hotly swollen her nipples had become?

Without thinking of what she was doing, Jean began to caress herself. “Mmmm,” she sighed to herself as her palms glid over the sensual swell of each oversized globe. At her own touch, her breasts throbbed with enjoyment.

“Oohhh, SCOTT!” she gasped, thinking of how his big hands would really turn these babies on.

With a start, she realized she’d spoken aloud. Jean held her breath, looking around to see if anyone had heard, but all the wedding guests only continued to look at her, placid and approving. She was glad there’d been such a good turn-out.

Go on, Jean. Play with yourself. Show Scott you’re no frigid schoolmarm. You’ve always been jealous of all the attention he paid to Psylocke in her little bikini and me in my, well, nothing… show him that even in a wedding dress, you can be slut enough to make him happy!

Jean’s fingers began kneading into the soft flesh of her swelling breasts. There was no fighting the intense sensations flowing through her body. She could only add to them. Her thoughts of Scott grew stronger as she caressed herself further and further.

It was like she was looking at him with X-ray eyes, seeing through his pristine clothes to the athletic musculature, then deeper, to the raw passion he would visit on her when she spread herself wantonly, shamelessly for him. No, there wasn’t the least bit of shame in a wife servicing her husband. He could do whatever he wanted to her—Jean couldn’t wait to discover all his desires for her!

“Nnhhh… damn!” Jean hissed. The more she titillated her throbbing breasts, the hotter her cunt grew.

She couldn’t fight it any longer. She had to tend to her needs, right there on the aisle with her fiancé yards away, waiting to become the man who would take care of her from now on. She simply couldn’t wait long enough for the entire ceremony to be over. She needed her desires met now, even if she was going to spend every moment thinking about Scott!

Good girl, Jean. It was Betsy’s voice now, not Emma’s. Even with her snide accent, Betsy didn’t teep to her as cruelly as Emma did. Show Scott how hot he makes you. Imagine, him spending the entire ceremony knowing that your wet cunt is waiting for him under that dress… if any of it’s left by the time you’re done.

One hand kept working at her breasts. The other stole down, gliding over the lace filigree that covered her trembling belly so that its texture rubbed on her bare flesh, and then down under the skirt of her wedding dress.

Jean pulled it up until it was a mass of melted frosting slathering her midsection, baring her long legs and pantied crotch. Then she reached into her panties and pressed her fingertips against her waiting mound.

“Mmmmmmmm,” she sighed, cooing a little as a thrill of delight possessed her, filling up her sex as though waiting for the touch of her fingers inside to fully explode.

It’s incredible how horny you are! Emma again. She sounded amused. Scott certainly won’t have any cold feet after this display. Not only are your breasts finally big enough for him, but it’s clear to everyone you’re going to be his personal whore as soon as you have that ring on your finger. All that’s left to wonder is whether you’ll take it up the ass. But look at that big hard-on Scott’s packing. I think he’s gotten it into his head that you’ll be a good anal fuck for him. I know I would be turned off if I thought I couldn’t ever fuck that fat ass of yours.

For over a minute Jean stroked the outside of her pussy, feeling the charge inside swell deeper and hotter and wetter. Only when she felt her juices running out of her slit and touching the insides of her thighs did she finally open her legs and work a finger into her seething folds, touching a sea of hot fragrant lust on all sides.

“Uuunngghh!” Jean moaned, touching the tender walls of her pussy through an ocean of wetness. She let her fingertip glide along the crevice inside her, softly stroking a pleasure into her body that kept churning and undulating with no end. A second finger slid in easily alongside the first. More pleasure filled her body, hot and electric.

She was teasing herself, putting off the moment when her fingers would finally make contact with her clit. She moved the pads of her fingers higher, almost to the hood of her wildly sensitive button. Her legs opened wider. Her cunt was more exposed than ever. She felt the stinging hardness of her clit come out of its concealing hood and bare itself to her needed touch.

“Aahhh!” Jean sighed, finally touching her slippery fingertips to the need of her throbbing nub. Her body pulsed convulsively, rocking with the pure pleasure that drove through her like a bolt of lightning.

Oh God, this was how it was when Scott was touching her, stroking her body, making her so ready for him that she needed nothing else… she couldn’t do anything but fuck!

You’re his already, Jean. Betsy was cooing, virtually purring into Jean’s air. Everyone knows that you’re addicted to the very thought of fucking him. No wonder you won’t let Emma or I have any fun with him. Obviously, you’re going to fuck him every minute of every day, if that’s what it takes to sate his lust. But, since you think you can do a better job of servicing him than we can, I guess it’s a good thing you’re such a slut.

Jean tried to imagine Scott lying on top of her, his naked body pressed tightly to hers. She jabbed her thumb into her thigh and imagined it was the tip of his swollen manhood, pushing demandingly into the body it wanted to possess. The hardness that would soon have her hungry cunt to sheath it.

Her cunt, yes, that was where she needed him. Jean took her fingers away from her glowing clit and brought them eagerly down to the juicy eagerness of her slot. Her fingers slid neatly into the openness of her slit. She felt it flower open, hot and singing, needing to be filled.

“Unnhhh,” Jean cooed as her fingers ran inside herself, trembling walls squeezing eagerly around the intrusion as though it were Scott’s. She tried to give into it the same way she would her soon-to-be husband, fingering herself, in and out, pushing as far into her cunt as she could.

It wasn’t a lot. Her fingers were woefully short of Scott’s thickness, his length, his lustful drive as he reaped every ounce of enjoyment from her tight cunt. She couldn’t enjoy herself the way Scott could—that wonderful satiation with being inside her—but she could do a little something to pretend to Scott’s girth.

Jean added another finger up inside her pussy. And when her pussy was used to that, she slipped in a fourth beside it. She was almost fisting herself then, all four fingers rammed inside herself, but it still didn’t feel like Scott’s girthy prick up inside her. He knew how to fuck her; leave her fucked and loved and fucked. All Jean could do was service herself. And Scott had taught her that her body could feel so much better than that.

“Mmm, Scott,” she mewled, trying to make herself believe that it was his cock stabbing into her, taking up so much of her womanhood. But it was hard to fool herself—she knew Scott had so much more to offer than the four inches of her own fingers.

The depths of her pussy cried out for the attention they knew they could get from Scott, but she simply couldn’t give it to herself. She needed more. Jean needed to reach all the way to her cervix. But how?